


Next Contestant

by CivilDisobedience



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Minor Violence, Swearing, brief Non-Consensual Groping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 17:16:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7516531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CivilDisobedience/pseuds/CivilDisobedience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was listening to Next Contestant by Nickelback and I thought that MacCready would act like that if his woman worked in a bar.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Next Contestant

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to Next Contestant by Nickelback and I thought that MacCready would act like that if his woman worked in a bar.

Jesus, why don’t they learn? Mac’s hand gripped the drifter’s wrist, after having forced it behind his back painfully. He had heard it pop, and figured that couldn’t have felt too good, so he continued forcing it further and further up the man’s back. “Why the He-..ck do you think you can touch anyone you want?” It wasn’t a question Mac really had wanted an answer for, and the sudden quietness of the room made it easy to hear the man’s pitiful breaths. 

"She was flirting with me,” the man wheezed out, and startled Mac slightly. Though, the fact that the man thought that was a good reason to touch this woman made his blood boil, and he squeezed the man’s dislocated wrist tightly. 

“Tell me you’re not this fu-freaking stupid, man. Please. Just because a woman of such fi-” Mac began, but was suddenly cut off by a woman’s touch on his shoulder. 

“Dear, please,” she practically whispered. 

Mac loosened his hold slightly, nodding towards her mostly unspoken request in acknowledgment. “Just because a woman smiles at you, doesn’t mean you can grab her ass, buddy,” he spat out, and released the drifter with a rough shove.

By this point, Mac had finally realized the entire bar had paused to watch the scene. Well, better get the point across to everyone. “And keep your goddamn hands off my girlfriend!” The drifter nodded and scurried up the stairs, heading towards the bar’s entrance with a sheet of embarrassment plastered across his face. Mac looked towards his woman to see a small tint of red spread across her cheeks. Her arms were crossed right across her chest, a small notepad dangling between the fingers of her right hand. 

As if to make his point even clearer, Mac swooped an arm around her waist and tugged her close. In her heels, she was about an inch taller, which made him lean only slightly to peck her on the lips. The purple lipstick she made from tarberries smeared across his lips, and made her giggle once he finally pulled away for air. 

The next night was even worse. He hated when she had to waitress in the secluded section of the bar - the little room in the back with couches and chairs, dim lights and that wreaked of trouble. On these particular nights, he wore his trusty sniper rifle slung along his back, and a hunting knife attached to his thigh. The security guard usually didn’t allow guns into the bar, but that wasn’t an issue with Mac’s new reputation as a helping-hand in bar fights and hotels around this town. Hell, even the mayor sometimes requested him as a personal security guard for the nights he felt like partying hard.

And oh, he hated when she had to waitress in that section of the bar. When these nights called for an even tighter dress than normal, her hair done up in curls and the paint laid heavily across her porcelain skin. The fellas with more caps than brains hid themselves in the secluded section, and the prettier the waitress, the more money they’d be likely to spend. But a sickening pattern had always filled these nights. The richer the man, the filthier his personality. No one gets rich from playing fair. Not from playing nice.  
Mac positioned himself right outside the entry way - a sheer black curtain separating the commoners from the high-and-fucking-mighty richer class. It may have blocked the view, but not the sounds: A throaty laugh and a small, surprised shriek. Juliet. 

And again, that fucking laugh. “Come on, pretty lady, don’t you want an extra large bonus? And I’m not just talking about caps.” 

Mac finally stepped in. He parted the curtain and saw the disgusting brute with his hands all over Juliet - his woman.

It seemed only a second had passed while Mac managed to grab the man from behind - arm clutched tightly around his throat and a knife jabbing gently at his cheek. Can’t hurt the bastard yet. The fact that the man had a good three-inch height difference on him didn’t seem to matter. 

“I wish you’d do it again. I’ll watch you leave here limping,” he hissed into the man’s ear, dragging his knife downwards along the man’s plump cheek to leave a nice bloody trail. 

The man attempted to wrestle from his grip, and ended up puncturing his cheek even deeper. More caps than brains. Someone’ll need stitches. Mac squeezed a bit tighter around his neck, and the man’s hands grabbed tightly around his forearm in attempted relief. Once a nice shade of purple tinted his face, he released and shoved the pig to the floor. The man scrabbled to his feet, a nice bruise already setting around his thick throat as he stumped through the curtain. 

“Listen, I know what you’re going to say,” Mac began, but was happily silenced by a soft set of lips being crammed against his own, and Juliet’s arms draping over his shoulders. When she finally allowed him to speak again, he started off slow. “I’ve been thinking.. I know you like working with people and all, but we should really get the he-..ck out of this town. I saved up enough caps on the side to buy you gear and a gun.”

“Then let’s get the fuck out of here,” she smirked.


End file.
